Melancholia
by xxmadworldredemptionxx
Summary: AU/AH: Clary struggles to come to terms that she is not the same person she thought she was after becoming a mother. Previously titled "Postpartum Depression". CLACE TWO-SHOT [M for sensitive/triggering themes]
1. Melancholia

_**Author's Note:**_

 ** _Hello lovelies! This is a repost of a short story I posted on my old account xxmadworldreveriexx._**

 ** _So before we get into it, a fair warning because this one-shot has plenty of sensitive and possibly triggering themes. Also, I just want to make this clear: I am not a mother. I have never gone through any of the things that the characters (namely, Clary) goes through in this story. So if there are any inaccuracies regarding Clary's condition, please forgive me. I did do my best to research and portray it as realistically as possible._**

* * *

 _ **Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the original TMI series and characters. Any familiar quotes that you recognise from the TMI books should, of course, be attributed to the ingenuity of Cassie. However, the plot lines and other character developments etc. in this story belongs to me,**_ _ **xxmadworldredemptionxx**_ _ **. Please do not copy, reproduce, translate, or repost these stories elsewhere without my permission.**_

* * *

 **MELANCHOLIA**

The first time I realized that something was wrong with me was about nine weeks after Jamie was born. I couldn't quite recall the exact moment that led to that painful realization, but when it finally dawned on me, it broke me in ways I never thought possible.

For weeks, I had deluded myself into thinking that the postnatal blues would eventually go away once I had adjusted to the hectic routine of being a mother. But when those issues continually persisted due to my stubborn ignorance (an irony in this case considering I had transformed into an almost full-fledged emotionless zombie), I was finally forced to take notice that I wasn't quite the same person I thought I was going into my pregnancy.

Clarissa Adele Herondale was just a name, not a person. She was a subpar mom and a failing wife.

No, I had never, not once, neglected my son or harbored ill thoughts, much less expressed violent tendencies towards him. I loved him, just as much as the next mother did her own child. After all, I had carried him in my womb for nine months, and birthed him after 18 long, hard hours of labor. He was my very first baby...or the very first one I'd managed to carry to full term and actually survive.

Before Jamie, I had been pregnant on two other occasions. The first one ended in a miscarriage when I was just barely into my second trimester. And the second was equally heartbreaking, if not more. I had gone into labor with our little girl when I was eight months pregnant, and after an excruciating fight in the delivery room, I gave birth to a stillborn. She was named Annalise Jane Herondale, and was a beautiful girl who weighed just under five pounds, and had my little button nose and her father's soft blond curls.

Till this day, I mourned the loss of our daughter and our eldest child whom we never even had the chance to meet. Had Jace and I been spared our misfortunes, we would have three children in our lives by now. But who was _I_ to question God's plans for me? He had been more than generous to give me another chance, to bless me with a healthy and living son in Jamie, so why was I feeling this way?

Why, after all this time, when my baby had been growing into an exceptionally happy six-month-old was I still struggling with these...unexplained emotions? Why did I constantly grapple with feelings of worthlessness, inadequacy, guilt, shame, and worst of all, emptiness? I certainly had no right to be.

Here I was living the life that any other woman could easily envy, and yet, I was a selfish bitch with an inferiority complex who made herself feel less than she probably was.

I had been happily married to my childhood sweetheart for over ten years. We finally had the beautiful family we had always been dreaming of. Jace was a successful lawyer who was an exceptionally loving husband, and even more amazing father whom our son adored…

So why was it not enough? Why couldn't I be happy? Why was I constantly looking over my own shoulder for something horrible to happen? _Why_ , in spite of Jace's fervent reassurances of his love for me, did I doubt him?

'Postpartum depression' was the term they called my illness. Jace was aware that I had changed, though to what extent was the severity of my situation was purposefully kept secret from him.

Did I feel remorse over withholding information he probably should know about me? Maybe. Was it enough to make me change my mind and disclose my condition to him? No. Absolutely not.

The last thing I wanted to add to my plate, on top of feeling like a worthless waste of space, was to admit that I was actually _dependent_ on Jace. I was 30 years old, and a mother, damn it! I didn't need to rely on my husband to solve my problems for me. I could handle them on my own. They were _mine_ to deal with, not his. Besides, how could he possibly fathom the things I was going through?

The only thing Jace had noticed about me was that I was no longer as socially active as I used to be. Quite the opposite, I had withdrawn into a shell of myself, where my interactions were limited to spending time with my baby and making sure that his needs were met—even then, I lacked the enthusiasm of a first-time mother.

Besides Jamie, no other person mattered to me… Not even Jace.

When the doctor gave me the final all-clear to resume normal activities six weeks after Jamie was born, I hadn't been as relieved as I initially thought I would be. For weeks, Jace had been telling me how much he was looking forward to resuming our marital relations again...unaware of the fact that my desire for anything resembling intimacy had diminished into inexistence.

This probably should have been the first sign to trigger the warning bells in my head, but I was quick to dismiss them. I had been convinced that once Jace and I finally got around to doing what it was that cemented our married life together, we would finally regain that spark that was missing and I would be okay again.

I was dead wrong. As harsh and cold as this might sound, the physical intimacy I usually savored with Jace didn't make me feel anything at all…quite the opposite, actually. For the first time in our relationship, I actually felt... _resentful_ of it. But to protect Jace's feelings, and to make sure that he didn't suspect that anything was off with me, I found myself putting on an act. And when the dust had settled, the shame and guilt I felt was crushing.

I decided that I never wanted to put myself in that kind of vulnerable situation again, not until I managed to fix whatever the hell the problem was with me. So I started to make up excuses every time...though I tried my hardest to _not_ make it sound like I was (obviously) rebuffing his advances.

The excuses became so relentless that eventually, Jace just stopped trying.

We still cuddled, but despite the closeness of our contact, I had never felt more emotionally distanced from Jace. And my guilt worsened.

Most nights when Jace had fallen asleep next to me, I would lie awake, a complete insomniac despite how fatigued my body actually was. I was weary...of myself and the feelings that hovered around me like a constant shadow. I would replay everything I had done during the day in my head, the thoughts coursing through my mind like an unfiltered stream.

Did the breakfast I cooked this morning taste as bland as it did on my tongue? Did Jace suspect anything was wrong with me when he kissed me before leaving for work? Did I smile enough for Jamie today to make him believe that his mother loved him? Am I producing enough breastmilk for my baby boy? Am I feeding him enough? Am I showering him with adequate attention? Did the dinner I cooked taste bland again? Oh no, what if Jace thinks that I'm useless because I wouldn't put out for him again? What if he grows sick of me and looks for a replacement, someone who would fulfil his needs as a man? Would I care?

Then it would boil down to the same conclusion every time:

What good was I as a wife if I couldn't even make my husband happy? He had never even asked me for anything. Other than taking care of Jamie and our house, I never had to work, except to fulfil my dreams to be an artist. And even _that_ was a dull flicker in my life where it once used to be a burning passion.

Who was I?

A complete useless nobody, that was what.

 _I hate myself._

 _I am disgusted with myself._

 _I loathe myself._

* * *

"Clary, what's wrong with you?" The question was so simple, so direct, and quite honestly, it was warranted.

Jace had every right to know what was wrong with me. I had kept it buried within myself for nearly _six months_ now, with Jace giving me the personal space I had never outrightly asked from him, and for my lack of integrity, didn't deserve.

But for some reason I couldn't rationalize, his question completely threw me off. I was pissed at his audacity to ask what was wrong _with me_ only after months and months of me struggling with the problem. I was contradicting myself, but damn it, if he had actually cared, why did it take this long for him to actually say something? Why didn't he try to talk to me before my depression worsened?

"Nothing's wrong," I answered with an underlying note of bitterness. "I'm breathing, aren't I?"

Jace looked taken aback by my spiteful words. For a moment he seemed to struggle with what to say to me and that frustrated me. For a man with a natural gift for words, he surely sucked ass when the time actually called for it.

"Baby, what's wrong?" He repeated himself, using less words than before, but essentially asking me the same thing.

I rolled my eyes at him. "I'll tell you what's wrong," I said as I jabbed my finger at him repeatedly in the chest. My mind was dead-set on concluding that the reason why Jace had finally deigned to speak up about my issues was because he had reached the end of his patience with my sudden embrace of celibacy and was desperate to get _some_. In my warped up mind, he didn't actually care about me. He was just _frustrated_. Period. But was I willing to cave in to him? _Oh, no._ "You're acting like an asshole. That's what's wrong with me."

His eyes widened even more at this. "What the hell? What did I even do to you?" he spluttered out.

"Don't act dumb with me."

"I am not acting," he said, angrily this time. "I'm asking because I'm concerned about you. I can't even remember the last time we actually sat down and had a happy and meaningful conversation with each other. Do you?"

I rolled my eyes at him again. I realized that this had become my new habit as of late. Every little thing Jace did annoyed me, but instead of saying it out, I would roll my eyes at him behind his back.

"Hmm, let's see," I said in a sarcastic tone. "We have conversations every day during breakfast and dinner about Jamie's progress. You're telling me that those aren't happy, meaningful conversations?"

"Of course they are!" Jace said defensively. "I was referring to us!" He gestured to the space between us. "When was the last time we had a conversation that wasn't entirely focused on Jamie?"

"Does it matter?"

" _Damn it_ ," Jace muttered, his patience obviously thinning. "Why are you being so difficult? Does this— _us_ —even mean anything to you anymore? Do you even care about our marriage?"

"Why? Are you only just now realizing how much you wish you weren't married to me?" I retorted. "Listen to yourself, Jace. If you weren't so frustrated about this dry spell we've been having, you wouldn't even bring this up."

"This has nothing to do with sex," he said through gritted teeth. "And stop putting words into my mouth. I never said I regretted our marriage. I'm asking you if you _care_."

"Nothing to do with sex," I repeated with a mirthless laugh. "Sure, Jace! Look me in the eye and tell me right now that you _truly_ believe that," I challenged him.

He glared at me and shook his head. "It wouldn't matter what I say to you since you're so hell-bent on whatever it is that's floating around inside your head. I don't know what's got you so withdrawn and distant from me lately, but Clary, I've been silent about it for long enough."

His golden eyes softened then, and he reached out to cup my cheeks in between his large callused hands. Before, I usually relished in his touch, but now I only felt suffocated and trapped.

"Talk to me; that's all I'm asking. I love you, sweetheart, and if there's something bothering you, no matter how small you think it is, you can tell me. We can work this through together. I want _us_ to be happy. I want Jamie to grow up in a happy environment...and that takes work from the both of us..."

I knew that Jace was right on all accounts, but that still didn't stop me from jerking away from him. "Nothing's wrong," I repeated, my voice sounding distant to my own ears.

I had turned away from Jace, so my back was facing him. I could feel his eyes boring into my back, which for the first time ever, made me feel like shrinking into myself. I didn't know who I was anymore and it scared me. How long was it going to take before Jace gave up on me and moved on to the next woman? No one would even care if he had a divorced status or had a kid. He looked the part of an eligible bachelor. No woman would be stupid enough to pass him up.

Was it time for me to let him go? What was I doing with him anyway, other than to deprive him of his happiness? And what about Jamie? My sweet boy...my mini-Jace… Did he not deserve a mother who could give him her all? Who wasn't as helpless as I felt all the time?

When the sound of Jace's receding footsteps indicated that he had vacated the room and left me to my own devices, I sank down to my knees and stared at the floor. Then another sound I never expected to hear came: the front door of our house falling shut and the sharp peal of tires as Jace sped away from our home.

Although in my heart I knew it to be temporary since Jace was unlikely to abandon our baby boy, I couldn't help but shudder at the thought that I had done it.

I had pushed Jace away from me…

The emptiness in the pit of my stomach grew. A sob tore from my throat—the first true emotion I had shown in months—and I lost myself on the floor.

* * *

 **One Week Later**

Since our fight, Jace and I barely talked. If we did, it would always be about Jamie. Never us. Never about that night I drove him away from home.

Twenty minutes into my breakdown that night, I had been pulled back into sobriety when I heard Jamie's cries. His pitiful wails, undoubtedly triggered by own hysterical ones, had slapped the sense right back into me. I was a mother, and at the moment, the only parent available to tend to my son. I couldn't afford to fall apart, no matter how messed up I felt on the inside. And since I couldn't run away from my problems, I had to settle for burying them instead.

So drying my tears, I'd picked myself off the floor and plastered on a fake smile onto my face. I'd brisk-walked into Jamie's room and cooed at him soothing words as if I weren't even the one responsible for waking him up in the first place.

"Mommy loves you," I had whispered to him. "I know I haven't been perfect for you, but I'm trying my best to be. Please don't hate me. I love you," I'd repeated those words to him like a mantra.

When Jace finally returned home, he'd fallen asleep next to me and Jamie, the latter of whom had been cuddled into my side after a particularly long breastfeeding session. But I was glad. Jamie was the one silver lining amongst the blusterous dark clouds tormenting me. I was grateful that I had him despite my depression.

The next day, I was numb again, which meant that Jace hadn't suspected a single thing about my breakdown.

Fast forward to today, I couldn't decide if this was a bad or good thing. On one hand, he'd probably thought that I was now a lost cause since him leaving did nothing to affect me. On the other hand, it meant that he would leave me alone instead of interrogating me about something I thought was best left ignored—

If I just stopped obsessing over it, maybe it would go away. Maybe I would be able to wake up one day and be myself again. I was living a pipe dream, but I didn't know what else to do.

My doctor had offered me help: therapy and even medication to help me cope with my depression, but I didn't want it. I had told her I would talk to my husband about it and decide on my next course of action from there—which I never did, of course.

How could I possibly bring up my condition when Jamie needed both his parents' attention more? I already felt selfish enough… What kind of a mother would that make me if I were to steal my husband's attention away from our son? The child we had been waiting nearly a decade for to be born?

Sitting across the table from Jace now, I felt a profound ache in my chest for the first time in months. An ache I now recognized to be a desperate longing. I _missed_ Jace, more than anything. I missed us and the ease of our relationship. I hated what I—or rather, my condition—had done to us. We were walking on eggshells around each other, which was something I had never thought would ever become possible.

But did I dare speak up? No. Not at all.

"I hope you don't mind," Jace said as he fed our son a spoonful of banana purée. I looked up at him, hoping in vain to make a connection, but he was studiously avoiding my gaze. Or maybe I was overthinking it. He could just be focusing on our son since he was feeding him, after all.

"My personal assistant, Aline, will be coming over for dinner later. We've been working on a new case lately that's taking up a lot of our time. I might have to pull an all-nighter, so I'd rather do it here where I can squeeze in some time to be with Jamie. I've been away from him too much, as it is. My poor baby."

Jamie let out a high-pitched giggle when his daddy leaned forward and pecked his purée-stained lips. As drained and numb as I usually was, I couldn't help but smile every time I watched the two. Jace had stepped into the role of a doting father easily enough, as if it were second nature to him. And our son loved him for it.

"Oh, and Aline's been begging me for months to come over to see Jamie. I've only ever shown her his pictures on my phone. She's dying to see him since she loves kids," Jace offhandedly added.

I felt the spark of an old, buried emotion at the mention of Jace's PA, but I quickly pushed it away. It was a working relationship, and in no way, personal. If Jace was involved in an affair with Aline, why would he even inform me in the first place? Plus, he would be inviting her to our house, where I could monitor them if I wanted to.

 _Really? Nothing personal? He sounds awfully familiar when he talks about her…Aline loves kids? If it were a strictly professional relationship, why would it matter if she likes kids? And Jace has been showing her photos of_ my _son? She's not even related to Jamie!_

I gritted my teeth as irrational jealousy swelled in me. _Friends,_ I told myself. _Colleagues can be friends too. A man and a woman can be in a purely platonic relationship. Just look at me and Simon!_

"I don't mind," I told him, though I was tempted to ask why it was even necessary to have his personal assistant work with him on a case full-time. But hey, what did I know about the way the law industry worked? I only ever understood the fine workings of a paintbrush or charcoal against canvas, or the scratch of a pencil against drawing paper.

"Awesome," Jace said as he began to pull silly faces at our baby. Jamie giggled again as his chubby hands reached out to pat his father's face. "We should be here by seven o'clock." He still wasn't looking at me when he said this, but I decided not to dwell too much on it.

Though it unnerved me greatly that when he finally left for work, he completely neglected to give me a goodbye kiss or to tell me he loved me. That hardly ever happened in the last ten years of our marriage.

But I was probably overthinking it. It was possible he'd forgotten. I couldn't trust my volatile thoughts, lest they destroyed me. I had already destroyed myself enough.

* * *

Aline was everything I had thought she would be: beautiful and sexy; an almost total opposite of my mediocre self. She was polite too, though I drew the line when she tried to give me a hug and kiss my cheek—we weren't close enough for her to be _that_ familiar with me.

I knew it was irrational of me, but when Jace introduced her to our son, I wanted nothing more than to scoop him out of his arms and keep him away from the other woman's reach. I wasn't trying to be possessive here, but I didn't like that my husband's colleague—who was practically a stranger to me—was showing that kind of affection towards my son.

If our roles were reversed, I knew I would never be as forthcoming as Aline was to kiss (technically speaking here) her _boss's son_. There were just certain boundaries when it came to things like that. In that instance, could I even consider her to be a _respectful_ guest?

Jace didn't seem to mind at all. He'd smiled at Aline when she'd asked him if she could hold Jamie—without considering how I, the mother of _my_ child, would feel about it. I almost burst into tears when she held my baby in her arms, and Jace bent down to coo at his son. I felt like an invisible outsider looking in at what probably looked like a happy family to anyone who didn't know any better. Aline could easily pass off as Jamie's mother since my little boy was the spitting image of Jace. The only thing he inherited from me were the shape of his nose and mouth—features that might seem insignificant unless people paid really close attention.

Before I knew it, I was the only one standing in the foyer in our house. Jace, Aline and Jamie had all went ahead into the dining room, where I'd already set the table and laid out the dishes for dinner. My heart beat uncontrollably in my chest, and I felt like my abdomen was being squeezed by an unknown force. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly alone.

It didn't help any better when I entered the dining room. Jace and Aline had already tucked into their meals without waiting for me, and were chatting enthusiastically as if they were best friends rather than colleagues. My chest tightened. What if they were more than just colleagues?

The idea wouldn't be far-fetched. Aline was an attractive woman, far more gorgeous than I was, especially considering all the extra baby weight I had put on and never had the time nor motivation to lose. I thought back to the last time Jace and I were together- _together_ …over four, five months ago. I hadn't exactly been paying attention, but God, what did he think when he saw my body then? All that tummy flab and stretch marks…

I subconsciously touched my stomach, wondering if it looked noticeably pudgy in the top I was wearing. Oh, if only I'd cared long enough to actually look myself over in the mirror when I'd gotten dressed earlier…

"Oh Clary, there you are!" Aline exclaimed when she noticed me standing in the doorway staring blankly at them. "We hope you don't mind we started without you. We were both starving!"

"Not at all," I managed to squeak out before I slowly, almost reluctantly, walked into the room. I took a seat next to Jace, and forced a smile onto my lips when Jamie turned to me and gave his famous toothless grin. At least _someone_ bothered to acknowledge me. Jace, on the other hand, hadn't said one word or even looked at me.

 _Why would he look at me when he has something else—someone more beautiful to look at? I'm just a disgusting piece of fat compared to her._

My eyes prickled with tears, but I forced them back. Usually, during mealtimes, I would alternate between eating and then feeding Jamie, but my little boy was seated nowhere close to me. The seat I usually occupied was claimed by Aline, and even I didn't have the heart to tell her to move.

Logically I knew it was only a temporary arrangement for the night, but I felt like I was being replaced. Worse, I felt like I deserved it. I had been pushing Jace away...so this was my retribution. I hadn't been as good as a mother to Jamie as I had hoped to be, so Aline was playing the eager stand-in.

I did this to myself. I destroyed my own happiness. I didn't deserve to be loved. I didn't deserve to have a family. I didn't deserve anything.

Before I could excuse myself from the table and wallow in self-pity within the confines of my bedroom, a choked sob made its way out of my throat. I clamped my hand over my mouth, hoping that it hadn't been audible enough to attract any attention, but I wasn't so lucky.

Three pairs of eyes were now zoomed in on me, Jamie purely out of innocent curiosity at the embarrassing sound his mother just made, and as for the other two adults...I didn't know. I was far too humiliated to glance at them and see what they thought of me. I had had enough.

I didn't say anything, only got up and ran out of the room, my footsteps sounding like a rhino charging up the staircase. In my frazzled state, I fleetingly heard the distressed cry of my son, but even that did nothing to stop me from fleeing the scene. Jamie had his father. Jace could deal with him. Aline could help. They didn't need me. They could handle it.

I locked the door behind me as I fell into the room, and then the wails came, louder and more potent than the first time I had a breakdown. I couldn't see the silver lining anymore. Everything around me was shrouded in darkness. I didn't know if there was anything left for me to fight for. All I saw was my own pain and grief. The numbness was just a prelude to the real emotion lurking beneath the surface. And now that it had finally broken through, I realized that I had deluded myself all along.

I wasn't strong enough to deal with it.

But I was… _ready_ for it to be over.

I composed myself long enough to hear the pounding fists belonging to Jace coming from the other side of the door. He was shouting and pleading for me to let him in, but I blocked him out.

It was too late. I was resolved in my decision.

 _Or was I?_

No, there could be no other choice! I had to stop lying to myself. The harsh reality of it was, I wasn't strong enough to face it anymore. But if I wanted to release myself from this torment, I had to be quick...before Jace broke down the door.

I ran into the ensuite bathroom and yanked open the medicine cabinet. My hands were shaking furiously as I pulled out the bottle of sleeping pills, my last resort to achieving perpetual 'relief'.

As I poured its contents into my palm, I brought my hand up to my mouth—and stopped.

I thought of Jace…

He could easily move on and find love again.

I thought of Jamie…

He was too young to even remember me.

Whomever Jace decided to love again, she could be his new mother—a better mother for him than I ever was in the short time I'd cared for him. I only hoped they would forgive me for what I was going to do.

Releasing an anguished sigh, I raised my clenched fist to my mouth, tilted my head back, and prepared to swallow.

But before I could follow through, Jace had tackled me into his arms and knocked the damned pills onto the floor. I struggled against him and screamed at him to let me go, but despite everything he held onto me tight. Despite my hysterical yells that it was "too late", he refused to let me go.

"Let go! Let go of me! It's too late! Let go!" I shrieked as my elbow dove repeatedly into his rock-hard stomach.

"Stop it. Stop, Clary. Please stop it," Jace tightened his grip around me as he whispered his pleas into my ear. "God, baby, stop it. You're scaring Jamie. You're scaring _me._ I don't want to lose you. Stop fighting me. Let me help you. Don't leave us, Clary— _please_."

The cry that pierced my lips once more sounded more like it came from a feral animal rather than a woman who was in pain. I didn't know what it was Jace said that finally made me surrender; I fell limp against his body as more sobs shook through my frame. Still, he refused to relinquish his grip on me. He kept me pressed against him as he shushed me repeatedly.

"It's okay. I'm here now. I'm sorry. I love you. Jamie loves you. Don't leave us," he murmured as we sank down onto the bathroom floor and he cradled me against his chest. "I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry."

I buried my face into his neck as the tears kept streaming down my cheeks. I hated myself...but now for a different reason entirely. I couldn't believe that I had been selfish enough to attempt suicide! The woman I was before would have never even _considered_ it. The woman I was before would have been repulsed by the decision I'd damn-nearly made to condemn myself.

 _God, what's wrong with me?_

"My heart _hurts_ ," I sniffled into his neck. "Everything hurts. I don't know who I am anymore. I don't know if I can get better for you. I'm lost and I'm scared..."

Jace coaxed my head out of his neck so he could meet my eyes. I didn't want to—I was so ashamed of myself—but he was persistent. "Look at me, Clarissa," he gently ordered me.

I had no choice but to listen. Though I was shocked when I finally did see his face. Jace _never_ cried—but there was no denying that he was crying now. Because of me.

It shocked me to see so much hurt on his face, the hurt I knew I put there. His whole face was bloody red as tears shamelessly streamed down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry. I should have been more attentive. I should have never kept quiet when I thought something was wrong. I should have been there for you instead of leaving you to deal with it on your own. I'm such a shitty husband. No wonder you wanted to leave me," he shook his head at himself. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, but please forgive me. Don't give up, Clary. Please."

"What if I never get better?" I asked him in a hoarse voice. "I hate feeling like this so much. I want it to stop. I want to be happy again but I can't seem to fight my way out of this misery. And it sucks because I don't even know why I feel miserable in the first place. I have no reason to."

"You shouldn't feel guilty for the way you're feeling, Clary," he gulped, looking ashamed of himself. "Especially since I'm partly to blame for what happened earlier. I shouldn't have brought Aline over. Yeah, we do have a case that we needed to work on but it isn't important enough for me to bring her to our home.

"To be honest, I was still sore about our fight last week. I was angry with you because I thought you didn't care about us anymore, even if I were to leave. I… I did what I did tonight because I wanted you to _react_." He tightened his grip on my waist. "Guess we all saw how badly my plans backfired. I didn't mean to push it so far, much less make you wish that you were…no longer with us," his voice cracked as his mind undoubtedly replayed my stunt with the sleeping pills. "That was never my intention and I'm sorry I behaved so childishly instead of talking to you like I should have."

"Well, you did try to talk to me," I said, referring to our fight. I was still a disgusting mess of tears, fears, and insecurities, but somewhere in the middle of Jace's explanation, I'd managed to calm myself down. I no longer felt the urge to harm myself. Strangely, in fact, I felt more like the old me who abhorred what I'd nearly done _._ "But I was so far up my own head to be reasoned with…" I shook my head. "You're wrong, by the way. The night you left, I wasn't an emotionless piece of stone as you thought I was. On the contrary, that night was the first time I broke down," I confessed. "After you drove off, I started crying…much like I did earlier that I scared Jamie awake. He was the reason I didn't do anything stupid after you left…"

The look of pain and remorse in Jace's eyes intensified. "I'm sorry," he said, his voice sounding small.

"You couldn't have known. It's…okay," I answered robotically, almost out of an unconscious habit.

" _Okay_?" One could definitely tell that my husband was far from pleased with my answer, but I didn't know what else to say.

Thankfully or not, Aline interrupted us with a red-faced crying baby in her arms. There was no other word to describe the look on her face other than abject horror. She might not have seen what I had tried to do myself, but I could bet every dime I had that she'd heard the commotion and put two and two together. Wonderful. Now Jace's colleague thought I was crazy. What if she called the authorities and convinced them I was a threat to myself...and to society?

"Umm, Jace?" Aline's voice sounded squeaky and nervous as she pointedly made the effort not to look at me. "If it's alright with you, I think I should go. And your baby…"

Jace cast me a meaningful look in the eye, one that told me to not try anything stupid while he retrieved our baby from his PA. I gave him a barely there nod, and he slowly got up to take Jamie in his arms. Our little boy calmed down a little, but continued to cry his little lungs out. Poor baby. I couldn't believe that I'd scared him again with my outburst.

"Thank you, Aline," Jace said, his tone almost dismissive.

The girl nodded. "I'll just...show myself the way out then. Thank you...for the dinner. And," she glanced warily at me as if I would pounce on her any minute—I probably would if she were still holding on to my child. "I hope you feel better, Clary."

"Thanks," I muttered, willing for her to just leave and take the awkward tension with her. I was so tired that I didn't care if I offended her. I didn't owe her an explanation as to why I behaved the way I did, even if she bore no ill intentions against me. None of my issues concerned her. "Goodbye, Aline."

* * *

When the other girl finally left, I walked over to Jace and held my arms out to take Jamie from him. He hesitated for a moment before he gave in, and I heaved a sigh of relief once I felt my baby in my arms again. I rubbed his back and buried my face into his cheek, inhaling him, and within a short few minutes, his cries began to subside.

Jamie whined and nudged his face against my chest, letting me know that he wanted to be fed. I walked over to our bed and sat down, exposing myself just enough to allow him to latch onto my nipple. He suckled greedily, and I stroked his cherub-like cheek as I nursed him.

"Mommy's sorry again, baby," I told him. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Jace sat down on the bed, leaving a little space between us as he watched our son eat. I gave him a small smile when I caught his eye, and he returned it with a hesitant smile of his own.

"You can talk to me, Jace," I told him softly as I eyed my nursing baby. His chubby hands were softly kneading the flesh of my breast as he fed, and his eyes were droopy with sleepiness. I kissed his head of fine blond hair and began to gently rock him, helping him to sleep.

After a long silent pause, Jace finally spoke. "Please don't misunderstand me, but have you talked to someone about what this is? Someone who could help?"

I nodded embarrassedly. "I know the gist of it from what the doctor told me," I whispered. "She said I've postpartum depression. She recommended me to go for therapy to help me cope with these _feelings_ but I didn't… I wanted to believe that the doctor must have somehow misdiagnosed me. I told her I would speak to you when the problem became too real for me to deny it any longer, but I was scared of how you would react. I've already been enough of a disappointment for you."

"What?" Jace looked genuinely shocked by this.

"I lost two of our babies before we had Jamie," I clarified with a slight hitch in my tone. "If I had been more careful with them, we would have had three kids by now instead of one."

"Babe, I've never once blamed you for what happened… Yes, I was devastated when we lost them, but I've never pinned the blame on you. Heck, I felt horrible because as much as they were my kids, _you_ were the one that had to endure the _physical_ pain of losing them while I watched uselessly on the sidelines…"

I closed my eyes as the sting of tears returned. "I…" I swallowed the lump in my throat. "About my _depression_ ," I said, desperate to steer the conversation away from our past losses, "One of the reasons I never brought it up was because I thought that if I ignored the problem, it would hopefully go away. And with Jamie in the picture, I just didn't want to make my condition a bigger focus than our son. And...admittedly, the part of me that wasn't emotionally paralyzed was afraid that if I was somehow declared mentally unstable, you would take Jamie away from me." I sniffled again. "I don't think I would be able to handle that. I know I haven't been a perfect mother to him, but I have tried. The urge to hurt him, even on days where I experienced my deepest lows, have never once crossed my mind. I love him, Jace."

"I believe you," he said earnestly. "And he loves you, too, you know? You may not see it, but every time he sees his mommy walking into the room, his entire face just lights up. He may not be old enough to say it, but he loves you… Don't ever doubt how good of a mother you are, because you're the most amazing mother I've ever seen. I've never once heard you complain about having to wake up in the middle of the night to feed our son or just to comfort him when he cries… That proves a lot of how much you care for him."

"I'm still far from the person I used to be though," I muttered. "What if I can't control my mood swings one day and I accidentally _hurt_ Jamie?"

"I trust that you won't." Jace took my hand in his own. "We'll even go to this therapy thing…together. I could always take time off from work. After all the sacrifices you've made for our son, and even for the children that we've lost, the least I could do is to give you my support. I want you to get better. I want you to know that I'm here for you. I'll do whatever it takes to help you find _you_ again. I'll do whatever it takes to make you happy, Clary," he said, and God, did I believe him. There were no lies or half-assed promises to his words… And we wouldn't just be doing this to mend _us_ , but for the sake of our family's future.

The road to recovery wouldn't be easy, but I had _faith_ this time. If I got through this giant hurdle with Jace by my side, we would hopefully be able to emerge stronger on the other side.

* * *

 ** _A/N: Out of the couple of one-shots I have written and posted on FF, this one definitely ranks as one of my personal favorites because of the emotions that I poured into writing it. Plus, I think there's some good takeaways we can learn from this: the importance of communication when in a relationship, for example. Although Clary had her reasons for keeping her condition to herself, she could have saved herself a lot of trouble if she had just confided in Jace. Likewise, Jace could have tried harder to find out what was wrong with her without going about it the confrontational way, as he had during their fight in the earlier scene. A little sensitivity and thought can go a long way...as can the self-admittance towards needing help. As Jace and Clary show, it takes two, or perhaps even more, to combat certain hurdles in life._**

 ** _A final note to my readers: The phrase "Never give up" may seem overused and cliched, but it is an important principle to keep when faced with challenges and moments of vulnerability. Resilience is the true mark of bravery and strength, so when you find yourself wavering with self-doubt and helplessness, surround yourself with the people who fill you with positivity and a zest for life!_**

 ** _Thanks for reading. If you could spare me a few minutes of your time, do let me know your thoughts on this one-shot! :)_**

 _ **Peace xoxo**_


	2. Melancholia Part II: Epilogue

**_***REPOST***_**

* * *

 ** _Author's Note: Hello lovelies! So I've expanded this story into a two-shot at the request of a fellow reviewer...and yes, it's Clace-centric. Hope you guys enjoy reading this! :)_**

 _ **Disclaimer: Cassandra Clare owns the original TMI series and characters. Any familiar quotes that you recognise from the TMI books should, of course, be attributed to the ingenuity of Cassie. However, the plot lines and other character developments etc. in this story belongs to me,**_ _ **xxmadworldredemptionxx**_ _ **. Please do not copy, reproduce, translate, or repost these stories elsewhere without my permission.**_

* * *

 **MELANCHOLIA PART II**

Admitting that I needed help proved to be one of the hardest things I ever had to do in my life. I wasn't necessarily a prideful person to reject the offer of help, but as someone who grew up striving to be self-sufficient, I was averse to putting myself across as inferior or weak.

Despite my desire to mend myself, it actually took me some time to let go of my self-imposed stigma towards my own condition, to accept that it was perfectly okay to not feel okay as long as I had the desire to get back on my feet and continue living. And yes, contrary to the grim events that I've gone through and my less than stellar responses to them, I _do_ want to live; I'd just been buried under a heavy mass of emotions I didn't know how to deal with, that I'd forgotten how to.

The last six months of counseling therapy was eye-opening in many more ways than I could have ever expected it to be. Honing my self-awareness in order to discern my own vulnerabilities and emotional triggers, then learning how to control them and build back my self-worth was, of course, the ultimate outcome of it all. But along the way, my journey has taught me to develop a greater sense of appreciation for all the blessings in my life: Jace, Jamie, our families and friends…even the painful losses that I had encountered, and eventually— _finally_ —learned to conquer.

Good or bad, they were all bits and pieces that made me into who I am today, and I embraced them. Because of that, I wasn't just happier, but I was also far more grateful and motivated than I have ever been at any other point in my life.

As a mother to a now freshly turned one-year-old toddler, I still devoted myself and my attention to Jamie, but not to an obsessive degree that had me previously converted into a solitary hermit. Now, I gave moments to myself for self-care as well as time to socialise and reintegrate myself into the social circles I'd temporarily abandoned. Izzy, Magnus, Simon, even Alec, the true friends that they were, were not only understanding once I had opened up to them about the reason for my self-induced exile, but they were amazingly supportive as well.

And as for Jace…well… Confronting our relationship was, admittedly, the next hardest part after tackling my intrapersonal challenges.

As our reflections had led us to realize, the time that we had spent drifting apart, which was right after I had given birth to our stillborn daughter, had left so many unaddressed emotions festering. We'd both discovered, almost a little too late, that we had never mourned Annalise together, but instead, had been separate in dealing with our own pain from her loss. And in doing so, feelings like self-deprecating guilt, anger and resentment had manifested themselves without our knowing.

I had never realized how abandoned I had felt over the simple fact that Jace and I never talked about our late daughter. And likewise, I had never realized how helpless and heartbroken Jace had felt, that he thought the only solution to deal with his grief was to give me space while throwing himself into his work. Truly, we were both idiots…

…which made Jamie's conception seem all the more like a miracle! Were we in love when it'd happened, or had it been in the heat of the moment? Did we still love each other _now_ , or were we only still together in marriage because of our son? These were the questions we had to ask ourselves when we were forced to take a step back and reassess the cracks in our relationship; to question the possibility of whether our feelings of love for each other had suffered and diminished with time and adversity. This was, in short, a hard pill to swallow.

Although Jace and I were liable to the same challenges that every other couple faced—the disagreements, the quarrels, the "You're sleeping on the couch tonight because I'm too angry to share the same bed with you" moments—we had never brought ourselves to consider that we could be one of those couples that, hypothetically speaking, _fell_ out of love. It was unspeakable, unimaginable, _improbable_ because we had been in love for the longest time.

Hence, on the very day that our— _my_ counselor decided to play the Devil's Advocate and questioned the integrity of our love/marriage, the mood in her office had quickly plummeted into excruciatingly tense.

* * *

 ** _COUNSELING THERAPY, DR. TESSA GRAY'S OFFICE.  
FIVE MONTHS AGO._**

"This is ridiculous," Jace snapped, not letting the counselor have a word in edgewise. "I don't see how any of this—how our marriage has anything to do with Clary's condition."

"Postpartum depression—or depression in general, for that matter, is often far more complex than just hormones or a chemical imbalance in the brain. Based on what the two of you have shared with me, I have reason to believe that Clary's depression has stemmed from factors that have existed long before the birth of your son. Afterwards, it only exacerbated due to Clary's insecurities as a new mother—which is understandable—and the fears that had fermented in her own mind due to the traumatic experiences of losing two other babies before," Dr Gray looked to me then, and I nodded, agreeing with her assessment, or rather, her iteration of the things I had already disclosed so far. "But there _is_ more to it than just that, isn't it, Clary?"

"I—"

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Doctor," Jace growled, interrupting me. "But based on the leading questions that you seem so fond of asking my wife, are you trying to _imply_ that our marital issues are somehow to be blamed for Clary's condition? That _I'm_ to be blamed?"

"I am not making any of such accusations, Mr Herondale. I am merely theorizing that one of the contributing factors behind Clary's condition has to do with your _possible_ strained relationship," Dr Gray calmly replied. "If I have made a lapse in judgment, then I apologize. Whichever decision you make with regard to your marriage is, and will always be, your prerogative." She reclined in her seat, hands folded neatly in her lap. "I know neither of you want to consider this situation, given that you're both parents to a very young child, but it's important for you to confront it. These feelings of guilt and resentment that you each have and have yet to deal with, are likely to have already caused a strain on certain aspects of your relationship. Choosing to ignore the problem—if any at all exists—can be damaging in the long run. And I don't just mean for yourself and Clary, but for your son as well. I am only advising that you _evaluate_ the extent of this damage together so that you can make the right choices concerning your relationship moving forward."

"And I don't suppose that _divorce_ is one of the choices that you're putting on the table?" Was Jace's heated response, much to my own bewilderment. "This is ridiculous, and quite frankly, Doctor, I think you're out of line. Our relationship might not be what it used to be but we _do_ love each other!" Jace declared passionately, his golden eyes burning with rage. I couldn't recall seeing my husband ever so angry before, but I suppose that in a way, he felt it justified despite having come to certain conclusions rather prematurely. The kindly counselor had only said 'evaluate' our relationship, damn it. Why was he springing up all hot-headed and defensive like that for?

But while I was irritated with my husband's presumptions, I also couldn't help but wonder, _really wonder_ , if it could be true: that the love, and consequently, the marriage between Jace and I were on the rocks. And if it were, then how much more was I supposed to let go? What if the reason behind my reluctance to give up on Jace, rather than be based on pure unadulterated love, was born of a selfish attachment and possibly even, co-dependency? Oh God, just how exactly _screwed up_ was I?

Before I could contribute to the conversation, the session had come to an abrupt end with Jace storming out of the room in a fit of rage. I turned to Dr Gray, thanked her and apologized on behalf of my brash husband, then left. Seeing as Jace had taken off to our car quite quickly, I was left with ample time on my hands to stew in my own thoughts. I tried to see things from his perspective, if only to understand the reasons behind his explosive reaction.

It was plausible that Jace had assumed that anything that would be discussed in our counseling sessions would be related to me and me only— _my_ problems. He'd probably never would have thought that any of my problems could be linked to him or our state of marriage, so any implication of such might have caused him to feel blindsided. In any case, and if I knew my husband as well as I believed I did, Jace was lashing out because in reality, he was pissed at _himself_ over the possibility that he was one of those factors that had caused me to slump into depression. Guilt had always had a way of driving him to certain impulsive moods and outbursts…

"It's not true, is it?" Jace asked me much later in the car, when we were on our way to my parents' house to pick up Jamie. He sounded so flat and emotionless, but this I knew to be a natural reaction for him when he was trying to hide that he was feeling, at all, scared.

"What's not true?" I asked him back.

"You don't believe that our marriage is loveless, do you?" He answered after a long pause. "You don't think that us staying together is because of Jamie alone, but because we love each other?"

I took note of the way Jace had phrased his questions—not necessarily the most eloquent I've ever heard him speak before—which was telling of how much he wanted me to agree to disagree with Dr Gray's skepticism regarding the motivations behind our continued marriage. Even though she could have exercised a little more tact and sensitivity, she had her point for addressing the issue, as much as it had pained us both to hear it. How many couples stayed together in a marriage simply because of their children, even if they no longer loved each other? Such situations often turned out to be detrimental for all parties involved, case in point being Jace's own parents—

 _Oh!_ I thought, my eyes widening as I realized the more probable reason for Jace acting as defensive as he had been. His parents! They had fallen out of love shortly after his mother gave birth to Jace, but instead of a divorce, they had stayed together to raise him, which was something Jace apparently still held bitter feelings about.

Recalling our days of adolescence would often bring up memories of Jace expressing his unhappiness over his parents' own unhappiness. To a neutral third party, the Herondales appeared to be a model family: a husband and wife raising a healthy son in a home that was never lacking in either money, food, or prestige. But those who knew better—who lived within the same walls as the couple as Jace did—would know that they acted anything but a couple, their love having quickly dissolved into animosity simply because they were tired of being stuck in a marriage that neither found fulfilling anymore.

Jace had described living with his parents as nothing short of nerve-racking. Given his parents' volatile mood swings and how rarely they saw eye-to-eye with each other, it was like constantly walking on eggshells trying to appease both parties. And as a result of him being the only child and the only other occupant in the house, he became their go-to outlet for whenever either of them needed to let their frustrations out on a walking, breathing person.

Then, Jace's 17th birthday came with the most unexpected birthday present: his parents had announced that they were finally filing for a divorce.

 _"I can't tell you how glad I am that Dad's moving out of the house. Seriously. I don't understand why they felt the need to stay together when they clearly don't love each other. Did they think they'd win the Parents of the Year award just because they raised me together in the same house?" Jace had said in a dry tone._

 _I'd sighed, not sure what to say since Jace had seemed so confusingly angry but relieved at the same time. "They stayed together because they felt it was the right thing to do. You shouldn't be so resentful, Jace. Despite what they may have done wrong, they're still your parents."_

 _"Don't I know it," he'd retorted. "You don't understand, Clary. You don't know what it feels like growing up with parents who can barely stand to look at each other. I can barely stand to look at them when they're together. The fact that they lied to everyone and make it seem like they were a happily married couple makes me sick. They make love seem so cheap and worthless." He'd reached out then and interlaced his fingers with mine. "When we get married one day, I promise that our children will never know what I've gone through. They will know nothing but love."_

Yes, thinking back on everything Jace had gone through in his childhood and assimilating it with Dr Gray's conjectures of our marriage being in a similar state, must have struck a low blow to Jace. The mere chances of being anything remotely similar to Stephen and Celine—and subjecting our son to the same injustice his parents had put him through—would go against everything he'd promised _we_ would never go through in our marriage. But oh, the mere idea of _divorce_ and raising in our son in two separate homes… I could feel my heart clench and squeeze in agony.

"Clary?"

I blinked open my eyes, unsure of when I had even closed them in the first place. "I think Dr Gray has a point about us needing time to sort ourselves out and really see where we are in our relationship," I said, not answering Jace's question because if I were being completely honest with myself, I was afraid of making rash statements that had the _potential_ of being wrong. In my head and in my heart, I knew that I still loved Jace—and always would—but could I say the same for him? Admittedly, I was still feeling inadequate, so it was warranted that I would harbor certain doubts about Jace's feelings for me. I wondered if his decisions to stay by side was out of sympathy or moral obligation, or because he really, truly, _deeply_ loved and cared for me.

"You doubt my feelings for you," Jace observed in a hurt tone. "I understand that's my fault," he admitted, "I haven't exactly been the best in showing you how I feel in recent years… But Clary, I _do_ love you." My heart leapt at his earnest confession, those four words soothing my aching worries like a balm. "It hurts me to think that our marriage is anything like a farce like my parent's had been." He gripped the steering wheel harder, so much so that his knuckles turned white.

"Jace," I placed my hand on top of his, my tone soft, "I don't believe that our marriage is a farce. And I love you too," I told him, not because I thought he needed to hear it, but because I _wanted_ him to know where I stood as far as _my_ feelings for him were concerned.

"Honey," Jace seemed to relax a little further at my use of the endearment, "I think you're hasty to think that Dr Gray has any intentions of antagonizing our relationship—she's not. She's right to make us think about our reasons for being married because the health of our relationship _does_ affect me. It affects us both. It affects Jamie." I paused, thinking over my next words. "And as much as it might hurt me to admit it, we haven't exactly been in a good place in a long while."

"I know," Jace acquiesced. "And I'm sorry for my part in that."

"It takes two to make a marriage work. I'm just as much to blame for my adamant refusal to confide in you," I gently reminded him. "But just because we aren't in a good place now, it doesn't mean that the road we're heading on is divorce. I love you, you love me, we both love our son, and that's what we're going to hold onto to make this relationship work."

Jace chuckled, seemingly placated by my words. "And here I thought _I_ was supposed to be the one giving out reassurances." Threading his fingers through mine, he brought my hand up to his lips and kissed the back of it, simultaneously rousing the dormant butterflies in my stomach. "I love you, Clary. I love you _so much_."

I couldn't stop the blush from creeping up my cheeks hearing those words from Jace. It was a good feeling, I realized. To love someone and to be loved in return.

"I love you too, Jace."

* * *

Following our brief conversation in the car, Jace and I decided to make a detour before picking up Jamie from my parents' place. Mom and Dad were thankfully understanding—and more than happy to keep Jamie with them, being the doting grandparents that they were. So to make the most out of the extra time we had to ourselves, Jace and I ended up taking a stroll together through Central Park, doing nothing more than holding hands and enjoying each other's company.

Even in the absence of words, it had been a reaffirming moment for the both of us. We still loved each other, so we would eventually find a way to fix this rift between us…starting with the small but significant steps to replenish the rusty but extant structure of our marriage.

Only when our stomachs grumbled did we finally decide to begin the trek back to our car and drove over to my parents'. Jace and I didn't talk much then either, owing it to the fact that we had more than adequately dealt with the heavy topics today (thanks to Dr Gray), but it was a calm and acceptable silence; a companionable silence marked by the unspoken words of "We'll be okay".

And we were. We _are_.

* * *

 ** _PRESENT DAY._**

Indeed, since that eventful day in Dr Gray's office and our heart-to-heart conversation afterwards, Jace and I have made every effort possible to fix our relationship. We talked more often than we had in recent years, and spent every free time we had together doing the most mundane of things like grocery shopping, cooking dinner, watching Netflix, and even folding the laundry.

Jace had reverted to his good old romantic self, occasionally surprising me with candlelit dinners, movie dates, massages, gifts, and at times, leaving random love letters around the house. It took me back to the days before we had Jamie, but nonetheless, our little boy fit seamlessly into the equation. Really, there's nothing more heartwarming than the sight of self-proclaimed bad boy/leather jacket-wearing Jace Herondale walking around with a jovial baby strapped to his chest.

Yet despite being in a better place than I was over a year ago, I still experienced days where I found myself imprisoned by anxiety and stress. _Today_ happened to be one of those days.

One would have thought that the parents would take a chill pill and not freak out when hosting a birthday party for a one-year-old since the aforementioned toddler would be disinclined to remember anything about his first birthday, but no, here I was defying reason and freaking out because I'd run out of frosting when I was midway through decorating Jamie's cake.

In an attempt to soothe me from a breakdown, Jace had immediately sent my brother out to the bakeshop down the street to get more frosting, not that the oaf had been willingly helpful about the situation. One could only hope that my idiot of a brother came back with the _correct_ frosting and not the first thing he spotted on the shelf.

"Calm down, Clary," Jace was saying, for quite possibly the hundredth time.

"This is a crisis," I muttered to myself while trying to stave off the absurd tears, "Jamie's party starts in 15 minutes and we don't have a fully decorated cake for show. Oh God, I'm a failure."

"No, you're not," Jace said before pulling me into his arms. I tried to relax myself into his touch when he started stroking my hair and make shushing noises. "Babe, you've done nothing short of an amazing work so far putting together all the decorations _and_ food. Don't be so hard on yourself. Besides, this isn't some formal function. We don't have to start on time. Look, Magnus and Isabelle aren't even here yet. We have lots of time to finish the cake."

I knew that Jace was right, but I still couldn't help but worry about the damned cake. Was it too much to ask to have a smooth-sailing party for my baby? "What if the store runs out of frosting?"

"Unlikely."

"But what _if_ they do?" I insisted in an exasperated tone before forcibly pulling away from Jace.

"Then we'll position the cake so that the undecorated part will be hidden from everyone else's—and the camera's—view," my husband rationally replied. "Stop worrying. It'll be fine." He looked at me from head to toe, and I realized belatedly, I must have looked like a mess. "You should take a shower while we wait for Jon to come back. You have cake stuff all over you."

Too miserable to argue, I nodded and allowed Jace to lead me up the stairs to our bedroom so I could get cleaned up for Jamie's party.

When I came out of the shower a good 15 minutes later, Jace had already laid out my clothes on our bed. I thanked him then promptly got dressed before sitting in front of the vanity to apply some light makeup. Jace stood behind me, hairbrush in hand to help me with my hair.

To my bittersweet amusement, I'd recently discovered that my husband was an expert at braiding hair—a skill he had picked up from YouTube when I had been expecting with Annalise. While it had been difficult to talk about the things that we had both prepared but would no longer be able to do with our daughter, Jace had been optimistic, saying that at least he had the practice in for when we would (hopefully) have _another_ daughter in the future. I accepted his remark with a good-natured roll of the eyes, then gently reminded him that I wasn't ready for that yet. "Maybe someday," I'd promised him, but for now, I was content being a mother to just Jamie.

"You know, you put Isabelle's braiding skills to shame," I said, smiling at Jace through the mirror. His face was molded into an expression of intense concentration (trust my OCD husband to be very particular about where every single strand of hair went into the braid).

Jace's gaze never left what he was currently doing with my hair, but his tone was decidedly smug. "Of course," he declared, "Not that that's anything for you to be surprised about, my darling wife. When I put my mind to something, I usually turn out to be better than just good."

"Hmm, maybe some time devoted to learning the art of humility should be your next endeavor," I teased him. "Then this conversation would have gone a completely different way."

"I'll pass," Jace said with a grin. "I quite like myself the way I am…as I'm sure you do, too."

"Not an attitude I want our son to pick up on though. I can only handle so much…Herondale."

"Ah, so now Herondale is a synonym for arrogance?"

"Among many others," I replied, enjoying our easy banter.

Tying off the end of my braid, Jace bent down and kissed my cheek, his lips deliberately lingering against my skin. "Hmm… Any chance that the words 'intelligent', 'talented', 'romantic' and 'devastatingly handsome' belong in that same Herondale category?" He asked, nudging me playfully with his nose.

I giggled. "Maybe…"

As Jace's arms wrapped me in a firm embrace, our eyes locked in the mirror, where I was treated to the view of our twin smiles. These two people looking back at us from the mirror…the tiny redhead dwarfed by her blond counterpart… _they_ were familiar, a welcome sight after so many months—a couple of years even—of pain and distance.

There was no need for a magic mirror to see the bond of love and affection pulsing between them. It was visible for all to see. Finally, _Clace_ was home.

"Are you happy, Clary?" Jace whispered to me.

To my pleasant surprise, my grin widened. I knew my answer even before I admitted it, only because I felt it so strongly.

"Yes."

* * *

 _ **A/N: A special shoutout to Jace-Centric for requesting that I continue with a second part to this story. I hope I've done the so-called 'ending' justice and depicted Clary and Jace's recovery as a couple realistically. I definitely enjoyed poking at my brain to churn this chapter out, so I hope you enjoyed reading it as well :)**_

 _ **Thank you to everyone else who reviewed the previous chapter. I'm so grateful for your kind words :)**_

 _ **As always, let me know your thoughts/favorite moments from this chapter?**_

 _ **(I personally love the image of Jace wearing a baby carrier; it's a sweet juxtaposition against his famed depiction as a 'bad boy'. And don't get me started on Jace braiding Clary's hair... He can be a sweetheart, that's for sure)**_

 ** _p.s. Any readers who are following my multi-chapter fic Redemption, I apologize for the delay in the update of the next chapter. As I said, I need to edit it but I'm currently really busy. Ironically, the only reason I managed to write this short story is because my brain decided that writing something new when I'm inspired is easier than editing my existing work, since the latter requires me to scrutinize everything through a fresh pair of eyes. And I can't function properly enough to edit with all the stress that's festering inside my head. As it is, writing and editing this one-shot continuation took up a span of 4-5 days (obviously I get sidetracked a lot more than I should). So please bear with me. I'll get around to editing and updating Redemption once I'm through with studying and exams._**

 ** _Until then, peace xoxo!_**


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